


Arrow of Time

by aionimica



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Arranged Marriage, Darkside AU, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Jedi Dynasty, everybody is horrible
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-06-03 00:17:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6589087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aionimica/pseuds/aionimica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>entropy:<br/>1. a thermodynamic quantity representing the unavailability of a system's thermal energy for conversion into mechanical work, often interpreted as the degree of disorder or randomness in the system.<br/>2. lack of order or predictability; gradual decline into disorder.</p><p>There are millions of truths and laws in the galaxy. But across the stars, there is one truth that cannot be denied: Beware the Skywalkers - they rule the galaxy in fire and blood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

* * *

**Poe**

* * *

There were three things that Poe Dameron knew to be true.

One, he hated gravity. He always had and always will, and will always crave the feeling of weightlessness in a TIE cockpit or the soft buzz of false grav generators. The polished onyx floors of the Coruscanti palace did nothing to convince him he was anywhere but planetside.

Two, the air in the palace was unsettlingly clean. The air on Coruscant was processed, filtered in and out of too many speeders and starships and cleaned too many times. But inside the walls of the palace, it was as if Poe had stepped back to Yavin with the freshness on his tongue. He would never get used to it, just as he supposed he would never get used to actually being stationed at the palace.   

Three, no matter what he told himself, he couldn’t change the fact that Luke Skywalker was walking towards him and he had a very, very bad feeling about that. 

Swallowing, he turned and clicked his heels, hand at his temple in a perfect salute. Not an inch of his body betrayed the nerves that coursed through as the black clad man passed by - not that it mattered. All Skywalker had to do was glance in his direction and all of Poe’s fears would be realized. 

To his relief, Skywalker never turned. “Is the shuttle ready?” the older man asked quietly. 

“Standing by, sir, awaiting your arrival.” He fell into line behind the black clad man, thankful to be out of sight. Skywalker would let him know if he was needed. And he was needed to pilot, but not for chit chat and Poe was thankful that the middle Skywalker was fond of silence. 

That didn’t mean the silence wasn’t oppressive. 

There was nowhere else to look but ahead. No place else to go, but to follow. Poe swallowed again, his fingers curling at his sides, one hand clenching his flight helmet. He had been assigned to the palace for five of his ten years in service, but nothing prepared him for when Luke Skywalker requested his duty. Nothing prepared him for the way his cold blue eyes looked past his mind and into a recess he didn’t know existed. He supposed he was more prepared for it now, but that didn’t mean that the older man didn’t give him the chills. 

He followed Skywalker to the hanger bay and up to the cruiser. A line of deathtroopers stood at attention along the gangramp, their black metal armor almost melting into the black floors. For not the first time, Poe was thankful he was pardoned from his flight suit and allowed to wear an Imperial Officers uniform while on these flights

He wouldn’t be black like the others. Grey was a little bit more distinguished. 

He didn’t breath easy until he was in the cockpit and Skywalker was far behind him. Poe was always alone on these journeys. Every so often Skywalker would decide it was time for a trip and Poe would nod and take him where he wanted to go. Once he flew TIEs in front of Star Destroyers. Now he flies cruisers with enough hidden fire power to  _ be _ a Star Destroyers, and one of the most powerful men in the galaxy in his cabin. 

He’d take it as a sign of moving up in the world.

The cockpit door opened and Poe did everything he could do not to jump and when he turned to look at the newcomer, his blood turned to ice. It wasn’t Skywalker, but it wasn’t that much better.

The deathtrooper cocked his helmet, his firearm holstered at his side. He slowly paced around the room and looked at Poe as the coordinates were set for lightspeed. Once again Poe tried to keep his hands steady. He never liked the deathtroopers. Nope. Stormtroopers were ok, they were fine, but the black armor of the elite nearly set him on edge as much as Skywalker. Some said they were the remnants of Vader’s original 501st Legion, others whispered that they were failed Sith acolytes, stripped of the Force and bound to serve the Emperor. Either way, Poe did not want anything to do with them and he especially did not want one breathing down his neck.

“Do you mind?”

The deathtrooper started back, the helmet shaking almost violently. It took all of Poe’s concentration not to smile. 

“Sorry! Didn’t mean to bother. Just curious.” The deathtrooper leaned in close, and Poe felt his skin prickle. “I’ve just. Never flown before. First assignment.”

This Poe couldn’t ignore and his eyebrow raised without his approval. “That so? Well, you’re flying with the best.”

“Good to know,” came the filtered voice. 

Poe gritted his teeth as he steadied the cruiser, making the last adjustments. The co-pilot seat was empty - Poe Dameron needed no co-pilot and Skywalker had not deemed it necessary to add one - and he watched from the corner of his eye as the deathtrooper sat down.

“Where are we going?”

Poe shrugged. “Hell if I know. If Vader’s son wants me to fly into a sun, then I’m going to fly into a sun.” He pulled up the nav computer and frowned. “Jakku. You ever heard of it?”

“Jakku… Nope. Just old academy classes on the fall of the republic. There was a battle there at one point.”

Poe nodded. “A big one. The Empire lucked out, with Skywalker leading the charge.” He closed his mouth before he finished the thought.  _ Nothing stands in his way _ . 

As the stars began to streak past into swirling blue lines, Poe turned to the deathtrooper. The scar above his eye ached and for a moment, just a moment, he wondered what in suns was he about to do. 

“You know if you’re going to sit in my cockpit, I need to know your name.”

“FN-2187,” the deathtrooper replied without hesitance.

“Yeah, I’m not calling you that. You don’t have a problem with Finn, do you?”

If it was possible, the polished black helmet smiled.

 

* * *

**Finn**

* * *

“What’s he doing out there?”

“I have no idea.”

FN-2187, who now called himself Finn, stood next to renowned Imperial pilot Poe Dameron and wondered,  _ Why me _ ?

Of all the places he could have been assigned first, he was attached to Luke Skywalker. The retinue that joined him on this little trip was small - only six troopers  - and he was not the most inexperienced, but he was close. 

So that was how he found himself standing in the cockpit of a cruiser on a desert plant at the far reaches of the galaxy, watching a man in black fight a girl in grey.

It wasn’t really a fair fight, if FN- Finn - was being honest. Though similar in height and equal in endurance, what the girl made up in ferocity, she lacked in experience. She was a dust storm next to Skywalker who slowly waited for the storm to die out. Her motions were deadly and aggressive, each blow carefully placed and struck with Force. Skywalker simply eluded until she was lost in her own turmoil that all he had to do was strike and parry and strike again before the saber fell from her grasp, his own red blade at her throat. 

From the viewports, they couldn’t see much, but they could see her face and the anger etched in her eyes. It stayed there as Luke drew his hands in front of her eyes and even as she collapsed into the sands, it stayed in her skin. 

Finn was one of the two called out to collect her. He wasn’t on the planet for very long, but in that moment he made the decision: Jakku was the worst place in the galaxy.

Slowly he made the way back into the cruiser, following Skywalker down the cabin halls. The older man pointed at a door, palming it open, the girls lightsaber in his other hand.

_ Please don’t say, please don’t say-  _

“Watch her,” was all Skywalker said.

“Yes sir,” Finn replied. The helmet was a useful thing, as he could sneer and grit his teeth and the Skywalker wouldn’t care. 

Well, Skywalker might be able to tell through whatever mysticism he used, but as long as the job was done, the Skywalkers did not care.

Grumbling he set the girl on the bed and holstered his rifle. He grabbed a stool and sat next to the door and turned to watch the girl. Young woman actually. She was still unconscious, one arm folded across her chest, the other fallen off the bed. Her fair skin was sunburnt, though peppered with freckles. Dark hair was drawn back into three buns, though loose strands fell from the ties and framed her face. Fine scars traced her arms, her hands and wrists wrapped in black cloth. She wore dark grey pants and tunic, a dark brown belt around her waist with an even darker shroud wrapping around her torso. Dark and light wrapped up this woman, making the red burns that delicately streaked her skin stand out all the more.

Poe peeked through the door and Finn shrugged. Skywalker never said explicitly to stay away and if Finn’s suspicions were correct, he could use the extra hands. 

“Who is she?”

“No idea,” Finn muttered. Whoever she was, she wasn’t good news. Skywalker had decidedly won, but his breath was haggard as he had walked back to his cabin and there was just a slight limp to his step. This girl was trouble. And she had been in trouble. They needed bacta patches. He was just about to open his mouth again when the girl opened hers. 

In an instant she was at his side, her hand on Poe’s throat. “Where am I?” she asked so quietly that Finn thought he dreamed the words.

Poe coughed and blinked. “Hyperspace... On board... the  _ Endeavour _ . 

“A Star Destroyer?”

“Kuatian cruiser,” he wheezed.

“You’re going to get me off of this ship at the nearest planet, do you understand?” Her fingers tightened around his neck and as he gasped, Finn had his rifle cocked and aimed at her head.

She spun around, palm open, fingers splayed, her eyes locked on his that slowly widened as nothing happened.

Finn grinned bitterly. “Nice try. Put him down.”

She didn’t and he fired the rifle. Her hair singed as the bolt hissed in the wall behind her. Poe dropped to the floor. Finn vaguely wondered how Skywalker would react, but if he was meditating and he didn’t see this coming and didn’t try and stop it, then he doubted that he would care for a little carbon scoring on the walls.

When the young woman spoke again, her voice shook. “What have you done to me?” she whispered.

Finn had no idea what she was talking about, but Poe coughed from the floor and pointed a finger to the corner of the room. A giant furry yellow lizard-thing yawned from a tree branch. The girl’s face contorted as she fell back on the bed. 

“Well, you can go ahead and kill me now. Nothing I can do to stop you.” When she looked at Finn again, her red-rimmed eyes burned with anger. “You’ve got that rifle,  _ use it _ .”

Finn said nothing and just sat back on his stool. Poe rubbed his throat and stood behind him. The girl groaned and slammed her fist into the hull. It echoed down the corridor and once again Finn wondered how much Skywalker heard or cared. 

“What is that thing called anyways?” she said eventually.

“What’s your name?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me…”

Finn shrugged. “That information is worth something. And apparently so are you. So if you want to know the name of the lizard-thing, you can tell me the name of the girl that send Luke Skywalker halfway across the galaxy to collect.”

“That wasn’t Luke Skywalker,” she muttered.

Finn shook his head. “You’re in for a big surprise then.”

The girl sat up, her arms crossed. The buns on the back of her head shook as she looked back to the creature. Fine, two could play that game. Finn wasn’t exactly sure how much time passed in the silence, but the moment the door opened and TZ-4350 walked in, Finn had never been happier.

He was almost out the door when he heard it. 

“Rey,” the girl said. 

He turned and she raised an eyebrow. A deal was a deal. He pointed at the creature. It purred or something. “Ysalamir.”

The door slid shut.

~

“Where are we going?”

“Coruscant.”

“What do you want?”

“Corellian chips.”

Finn wasn’t sure how well exasperated translated through a deathtrooper helmet. “I told you, you ate all of those.”

Rey huffed. “Fine. Gimme the pine noodles.”

Finn pulled them out of the bag and watched her while she ate. He wasn’t sure how long she had been on Jakku, but it was enough to give her one hell of an appetite. And he was more than happy to share. Ever since he was assigned to guard duty, unending nausea rolled in his stomach. He supposed it was something to do with the girl - she was certainly unsettling - but it always vanished once he left her room. 

He crossed his arms and ignored the wave in his stomach. Instead, he decided to try again and ask the question that had been nagging him. “So who are you?”

“No one of importance,” she said. 

“I doubt that.”

Rey shrugged. “Whatever the Skywalkers with me, I have no idea.” She turned back to him. “Where is my lightsaber?”

“Hell if I know, and if you think I would tell you, you’re dumber than you look.” Finn looked at the ysalamir in the corner of the room. Whatever that creature did, he was very thankful it existed. He did not want to see this girl get a lightsaber again.

“It was worth a shot.”

This time, Finn narrowed his eyes and wished she could see the gesture: it would make the next question a bit softer. Maybe. “Are you a Jedi?”

When she laughed it was the sound of knives clattering to the floor, sharp and harsh and calling for death. “No,” she said. “I’m not.”

“What are you then?”

“My question. What’s your name?”

“FN-2187.” The answer came automatically. 

“That’s your serial number. What’s your  _ name _ ?”

This almost made him pause. To the universe he was FN-2187, he had always been. It’s all he had known. He was proud of his unit, his designation. They had worked together and he was the result. A deathtrooper fit for the Skywalkers. But Finn? Finn was a man in a black suit of armor who joked with a pilot in the cockpit of a cruiser. And she would not know him. 

He growled. “FN-2187.” 

Displeased she stood and turned away. Finn followed suit. “Now answer my question. If you’re not a Jedi, what are you? I saw you on Jakku, fighting with Skywalker. You almost took him down and he’s-” 

Finn didn’t finish the sentence. No matter how far away Skywalker was, he didn’t trust himself to finish those words. Not that it mattered. The girl - Rey - stilled and slowly turned, a bitter curve on her lips. 

“He’s what?”

“Nothing.”

She looked away. “No I’m not a Jedi. My abilities are a bit  _ misaligned  _ for such a title.” Her hand clenched at her side, where her belt held an empty buckle. For her lightsaber, Finn guessed.

“Then what are you?”

“I told you, I’m no one. I’m just an Apprentice.”

“Yeah I doubt that,” he muttered. 

She sat back down on the bed, legs folded beneath her and closed her eyes. Finn grumbled and turned back to his stool, her last words circling his mind with a foul scent. 

He couldn’t wait to be back on Coruscant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ysalamir](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Ysalamir)ysalamir - force negating lizard
> 
> currently rated T, rating may increase later for violence. 
> 
> hope you all enjoyed! (i promise Rey and Kylo Ren are in the next chapter lol)


	2. Chapter 2

 

* * *

**Kylo Ren**

* * *

There were many people who lived in the Imperial palace. A relic from an ancient time and upgraded during the prosperous reign of Palpatine, it housed hundreds of staff, two permanent legions of stormtroopers, four squads of deathtroopers, three TIE fighter regimens and was prepared to dock and equip a _Resurgence-_ class Star Destroyer. Not to mention it housed the Skywalkers and their staff.

Still it was possible for the ziggurat to feel empty. Every so often a single man would slip away from the mess of Moffs and governors and senators - his grandfather was more suited for that anyways - and find himself drifting in the library until he found a person daring enough to play him in Coruscanti _perjan_. And there was only one person in the galaxy who would dare challenge the heir to the empire so blatantly and so willingly.

“...and that takes your chancellor,” said Hux easily, watching with feigned interest as his senator table struck down the ruler. The holo table shimmered as Hux’s figures paraded around, striking down his own.

Kylo said nothing, only leaned back in the chair as the general crossed his arms pleased with himself. As always his friend wore his black military uniform, the blue and red bars across his chest, and his constant at his side: a large long heavy coat, trimmed in gold. A bit overdone, but Hux was one with a flair for the dramatics. Perhaps that’s why he fit in so well.

It wasn’t that Kylo did not fit in - in actuality he fit in better than most, and that wasn’t due to his closeness to the throne. No, he was as living and as breathing as the Imperial palace, shrouded in secrets as dark as the cloth around him. It was shades of black to any passerby, but in the right light, it bled hues of red, as deep as Alderaanian wine.

His dark brown hair was almost black, his brown eyes softer than they should be given his heritage.  At the moment it was pulled back into a tie, the ends curling on the back of his neck. It’s shorter now than it once was - ‘ _more befitting an imperial heir_ ’, was what his grandfather said. If it was possible, his brow furrowed even more.

The other man shifted in the chair. “Stop looking so morose, Ren.”

“Stop looking so smug. You always win.”

“You’re not a very good opponent.”

“As you always never fail to remind me.”

Hux rolled his eyes and looked away. Kylo sent out a tendril, flipping the switch that powered the game table. The holos vanished, leaving a black stone table top at the perfect height to rest his feet.

Kylo picked up the datapad, flipping through the files until he found the one he was looking for: _A History and Account of the New Galactic Empire_. Two faces stared back at him from the cover; two faces that he knew too well. If he stared long enough, he could see himself in his uncle’s chin, in the set of his grandfather’s brow. His eyes however belonged to a sad woman and without thinking, Kylo Ren palmed the datapad off.

A glass clinked as Hux set down the decanter. Vaguely he looked out the windows to the cityscape beyond, Kylo following his gaze. “When were they due back?” he asked

“Any minute,” Kylo said.

“Are you ready for this?”

“I’m always ready.”

“Just making sure.”

Kylo narrowed his eyes as he turned to the other man. “Why do you care?”

The redheaded man shrugged. Hux was older than him by just a few standard months, but Kylo never shook the feeling that the other man thought himself much more _experienced_. And he might be, but General Hux’s talents lay in orchestrating war and death and keeping the Empire in order and obedience. Kylo Ren’s purpose was a bit more simple: he was going to rule it all.

They had been as friendly as they could be during their time at the Academy and to this day, Kylo Ren could never quite shake the idea that Hux just followed because of the prestige of tying himself to the future emperor. Many people did, but they all fell off, one by one, either intimidated by his practices, or found dead in some alley across the galaxy. Hux, however, managed to not only stick around, but thrive in the ambition of the palace, quickly working his way up to General of the Core Fleet.

But no one else looked out for him. And he might be only looking out for him enough to push him aside later, but Kylo did not care. He was a Skywalker and Skywalkers did not fall. If Hux still wanted to ride his success, he would do well to remember that.

He let down the shields that guarded his mind from any unwanted presence - or eyes, there were too many seeking eyes in the palace - letting his bearing in the Force rest in the library. Hux shifted uncomfortably. Even to an non-Force user, the feeling was oppressive; even the most hardened warriors wanted nothing but to run from the Master of the Knights of Ren and the youngest of the Skywalkers. Hux was not immune. Kylo almost smiled, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

 _There_.

He could see it. A small hovering shape coming ever closer to the palace that stood out against the teeming heartbeat of Coruscant: a void in the Force. A tiny hole where there should be something, next to the bleeding wound that was his uncle.

They were coming.

He remained seated while Hux stood at the windows, watching the sun fall over the city. Soon the moons would ride and the cruiser would land and Kylo Ren’s nightmares and dreams would come to life. He wasn’t sure in what order that would be though. The scar that bisected his face pinched and burned and Kylo absently ran a gloved hand across it. The sensation vanished. Kylo closed his eyes.  Not much longer now.

The comm channel blinked and Hux answered it after Kylo waved a hand. He knew what they would say and it came as no surprise when the general said, “They’re here.”

 

* * *

**Rey.**

* * *

She didn’t need viewports to know where she was. If one knew what to listen for, one would find that spaceships hummed at a constant tone in hyperspace, they hummed at a different one in realspace and they practically shuddered as they re-entered atmosphere. Rey had spent all of her life listenting and the cruiser practically shuddered now.

They must be in Coruscant. That is unless Skywalker had any other plans for her, but for whatever reason, she trusted the deathtrooper’s words. She hadn’t seen him in several day - not that it mattered - but he said they were going to Coruscant and based on the hum of the ship and the high pitched careening from outside, they were definitely in Coruscanti airspace.

Two deathtroopers came for her when they landed, restraining her as they fitted the ysalamir and it’s branch to a repulsorlift before leading her down the gangway and Rey realized that no matter how many times she saw this planet, it would always take her breath away.

Coruscant was a teeming bastion of life, an overwhelming sensation of existence. Once, she had come with her master and no other planets stood to compare. She had been younger - so much younger - and they had been much farther below, just a kilometer above the planet’s surface, but the memories and smells and sounds hit her the same.

There was such a desperation that thrived in the lives of billions that was unable to be ignored. Just looking at the cityscape tried to fill her empty well, but the Force was still out of her reach. Narrowing her eyes she glanced at the ysalamir on it’s branch not a foot behind her. It’s forcefield crackled every now and then, just to remind her that her freedom was ever just out of reach. The golden chain on her wrist that connected to it’s repulsorlift was another grim reminder.

She closed her eyes and recentered herself as she was led from the cruiser. Not that it mattered. Her master would come to get her soon. And then the Skywalkers would pay.

When she opened her eyes again, she tried to be content with nothing. She saw the towering star scrapers and the thousands of kilometers of traffic lanes and the lights of the city as the moons rose  and the twinkling of the stars, or where they satellites and docking stations orbiting above them. One start was more of a wedge than round and her heart hardened at the reality that Star Destroyers were her guardians now. Not to mention the men that walked these halls that were more of deserving that title than the ships they commanded.

The deathtroopers did not stop as they took her through the palace, passing door after door after door, going up lifts and down stairs until they got to a single door with a golden handle and locked her inside and sadly Rey realized she wasn’t alone.

All of her protesting in the world did not stop the servants or the protocol droids from scrubbing her body and taking away her tattered robes, leaving her with an array of gowns in their wake. They were all black and blue, trimmed with gold, of varying severity and style. Rey let one of them decide. She didin't care - she wasn’t going to pick her burial gown.

When she looked in the mirror she didn’t recognize herself. Red was painted on her lips, dark and smeared like blood. Her eyes were larger and darker, rimmed with cosmetics that made her fair skin nearly white. Her hair was pulled back in an imitation of her three buns, but golden chains clipped and kept them all together. Later she would notice it matched the chain on her wrist. A wide sash wrapped around her waist where a golden belt cinched it tight. The dress itself was the color of the night sky with no moon - the bluest color of deep space. 

She was still standing in the mirror when the deathtroopers came and took her and her ysalamir away. They led her down more halls and stairs until she was in a vast room with ceilings so high she couldn’t see their end. They stopped in front of two large doors.

She knew those doors. Every child heard of those doors: the doors that lead to the audience of the Skywalkers. Once, though, Rey knew them as different doors: older memories came when they were golden instead of black and children laughed in these halls dressed in neutral robes. Histories not sanctioned in regulated textbooks coursed through her mind. Rey almost laughed. Of course, the Skywalkers would live in a palace built in blood. Two tall guards dressed in red armor and armed with tall pikes stood at attention outside the doors, opening them quietly as the deathtroopers ushered her inside. Two Red Guards awaited her on the inside, the deathtroopers leaving with a salute.

Once the doors closed behind her, the audience hall was silent. The Ysalamir chain fell from her wrist as the Red Guard undid the hidden lock - it was seamless when she last looked at it - and finally free, Rey strode towards the throne, her fingers twitching in rage. Oh if she only had her lightsaber -

When she stepped out of the ysalamir’s range, it was as if she broke through the surface of the ocean and was finally able to breathe, but only to find a hurricane in her path. What lay before her was sickening and deadly and dark and sweet and passionate and hate and fear, all rolled into one, alternating and taking from the other. It was nothing of the Force she knew and so Rey did the only thing she could think of: she attacked.

At first the darkness seemed to part, revealing the three faces, split but her reach, but before she could grab hold, Rey found herself frozen to the spot. A heavy chain invisible to the eye coiled around her, locking her in place, slowly pushing her back to the ysalamiri.

 _No, no no!_ She wanted to cry. _I will not be your prisoner._

The one of the faces spoke. “I told you she was spirited,” the first voice said, made up of her nightmares.

An older, raspier, pained voice came after, halted in between a breath. “Spirited implies devotion. She is blind to all but her own path. She is volatile - unstable.”

Rey wanted to snarl as the first voice spoke again. “She would still suit our purposes. Do you have any opposition, Master Ren?”

“It will be as my Emperor commands,” said a younger voice, much younger compared to the other two. Back inside the ysalamir bubble, the heavy chains fell away and Rey almost stumbled in the gown as she struggled against nothing. When she looked up, the Red Guards were at her side, their pikes barely touching her skin.

What stories had she heard of the Red Guard? That their pikes bore into skin, leaving scars the size of mussels. That every time the silver sticks touched skin, they burned and shocked as they carved out your skin. And here in the bubble she was helpless against them.

But Rey was smart and she did not want to die today. Collecting herself, she smoothed the folds of her gown and turned back to the throne. To the Skywalkers - no doubt it was one of them that bound her - which one did her master say was the telekinetic?

It didn’t matter. She kept walking, the piked Red Guards not centimeters away. An old child’s tale came to mind as the three figures before her came into view: _Once it was said that the Skywalkers craved the light._

Rey almost smiled. Whenever that was said was long, long ago.

There was the blond man, elderly but not weak, who greeted her on Jakku with a lightsaber to her throat. His eyes were the lightest blue, but so cold: a dwarf star burning in the eyes of a man. He was the one called Luke Skywalker and Rey could just make out the shell of the man who had been heralded as the Hero of the Rebellion.

If she remembered her history correctly, he had also been it’s downfall. But he was also the one who owned the voice that inhabited her nightmares and Rey quickly turned away. He was the one who found her on Jakku and she hoped she would never be that close to him again.

The Emperor came next, seated on his cobalt throne, his blue eyes just as sharp as his son’s. The man who went by Vader was a scarred thing seated before her, so old that Rey nearly that he was still alive. But her master had told her enough of the Force to know it was no surprise.  A breathing apparatus controlled his breaths, but his eyes bore into her soul. She straightened her shoulders and met his gaze: she would not be intimidated.

A triumvirate of power stood before her: The Chosen One, the Son of Suns and the Master of the Knights of Ren. She locked her legs and stared straight ahead, willingly ignoring the pikes that surrounded her. She would not bow.

“Do you know why you’re here?”

She looked sharply to the Emperor. Vader looked at her almost tiredly. She felt a push on her mind, snarling she snapped shut her shields. A smiled cracked on his lips.

“Apparently not.”

“I wasn’t abandoned,” she said vehemently. She wasn’t. He was coming back for her. He promised.

“You wouldn’t have lasted on Jakku much longer. My son did you a favor.”

She turned to Luke Skywalker, both in reality and in the Force. He bled into the void, like a wound unable to be healed, pouring out pus and blood, unable to be treated or staunched. Rey almost backed away, back into the empty shelter of the ysalamir. To exist as such a wound - she didn’t consider the cost.

“The guard of the galaxy is changing, I can see that,” continued Vader, as if he didn’t notice her discomfort. “I will not stand against the wave of time. The galaxy must continue to move forward, must continue to have progress. In six months time, my nephew will continue my work.”

Rey looked to the man at his right side. Tall, fair skinned, with a long scar running down his face the third and last of the Skywalkers looked at her with disinterest and poorly masked curiosity. But there was a danger in him that she felt through the whispers of the Force through the edges of the ysalamir. The youngest Skywalker was tall and alive in the Force, rolling and turning and twisting every which way. His clothes were the color of the night sky with a fire burning far on the horizon. And Rey found herself unable to look at him any longer.

“And why do you want me?” she asked.

“An Emperor needs an Empress, does he not?”

Rey narrowed her eyes and gritted her teeth and she hoped that the old dying shell of a man who once called himself a Sith knew just how lucky he was that she didn’t want to be speared today. She was not some prize to be stripped off of a desert planet, like some trinket to be worn on a stranger’s neck, or a showcase on a prince’s hand. No, she was more than that, she held the power of stars in her hands, she was trained to kill, she was-

The look on the youngest Skywalker stopped her. He raised an eyebrow and almost smirked as the snarl fell off her face.

“What do I get in return?”

“Usually, a death pardon is a fair trade for a Sith Apprentice.”

Her mouth fell open in rebuke, but Luke Skywalker’s eyebrow raised  and Rey swallowed as his cold eyes settled on her. Suddenly she remembered she was weak. The pain from the fight on Jakku flooded her muscles and aches appeared where they had been forgotten. She wouldn’t live to walk out of this room if she didn’t answer with a ‘yes.’ To be an Empress. She was weak and she was alone and they knew who she was - _what_ she was. Rey didn’t want to think about how they found her...

“My master will come for me,” she said. It was as much of a confession as she could manage. “And then you will die.”

“Is that a yes?” Vader asked tiredly. Death threats must not mean much to a man who had cheated the reaper.

Not that it mattered. Her master would come. Her master would come and then the Skywalkers would pay.

She straightened her shoulders and let down her shields in the Force. Let the Skywalkers see what creature they caught and sought to tame. Her rage and anger coiled in her throat and she opened her mind for all to see. She said, “Yes.”

Vader smiled and for one moment Rey saw the man who cut through Jedi and Imperials alike and who once held the title _Darth_. Oh how far he’d fallen…

Luke just stared at her with those frozen eyes and Rey quickly looked away. The Emperor waved a hand dismissively and the youngest Skywalker slowly walked to her side. This close she noted the moles on his skin, the long hair pulled into a tie that curled at his neck. He had the Skywalker jaw, she noted - strong and sure, not unhandsome, not unsettling. She stared up at him, brow furrowed and lip threatening to curl into a snarl when he took her hand and slid a single gold band onto her middle finger.

As his fingers graced her skin, a whispered wizened voice rolled through her mind.

 _Dangerous, is he_...

The youngest Skywalker’s hand stilled, his fingers lingering on her skin. His brown eyes bored into hers and Rey saw the fire spark in them. What raging inferno did he hide behind those eyes, that his presence in the Force smelled like smoke?

Without saying another word he led her back to the doors of the audience chamber, leaving his uncle and grandfather behind. Only the Red Guard stayed close. Still holding her hand he lifted the ysalamir chain to the wrist.

“What did you just do?” he whispered angrily. She noted his face never fractured.

“Nothing,” she said calmly. Did he mean the voice - he had to mean the voice. Did he hear it too? What about Luke or Vader?

“No they didn’t hear anything,” the Skywalker said. How did he know? He looked in her eyes and the hardness kept her silent, killing her protests in her throat. “Don’t give them a reason to ask, and they won’t go searching.”

“Why do you care?” she said

He said nothing, only clasping the chain around her wrist. A prisoner once again. But the promise in the golden band whispered of more. It whispered of an _Empress_. The Skywalker stepped back and once he was out of the range of the ysalamir, she watched as his face relaxed and descended into it’s perfect mask. Perfect, save for the scar on his face.

Fine. She could play that game too. Leveling her gaze and stepping past the weakness and the pain, she turned and walked from the Skywalkers and their great hall. It wasn’t lost on her that she didn’t bow, but they didn’t call her back so it didn’t matter too much. They probably just found her amusing. The first person to stand up to the Skywalkers and live in almost three decades.

~

Later, when she was back in her rooms, with doors locked and Red Guards and deathtroopers at every door and window, Rey walked around the rooms, touching the gold filigre, gazing at the exotic paintings and moss art from Mon Cala. She didn’t just have rooms, she had _apartments_. Audience room, sitting room, dining room, a bathroom with the largest tub she had ever seen, a bedroom with the softest bed she had ever slept on, closets upon closets, and countless halls -  and little cameras everywhere to make sure she’d behave.

She supposed that was what the ysalamir was for. Vaguely she realized she’d have to name it-

“ _Kriff_ ,” she said, punching a wall. She didn’t know her fiance’s name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> perjan - a made up game similar to chess.
> 
> hope you all enjoyed!


	3. Chapter 3

Fluffy yawned. 

Rey grimaced as the ysalamir shifted on it’s branch. She wasn’t quite sure when she started calling it  _ Fluffy _ . It wasn’t so much as a name as it was a fact: the weird yellow lizard thhing was covered in some sort of fuzz or fur. Rey wasn’t sure which one and she wasn’t sure she wanted to find out, but it was hard to deny that the creature looked soft and well, fluffy. 

Not to mention it was the only thing that could be considered a constant in this new life, so she might as well not call it Thing. She pursed her lips. That was a good name…

Fluffy yawned again as they turned the corner. Her footsteps were light against the plush carpeting, not to mention the soft leather shoes that they gave her in replace of her old boots were practically soundless. So the palace wasn’t  _ that  _ bad. If they gave her free things, then she wouldn’t feel bad when she burned it down.

She leaned against a column as the sun reflected off the starscrapers. In complete contrast to the world it sat on - at no point could Coruscant be considered quiet - the palace was lively as a tomb. Rey could count on her fingers and toes how many living things she had seen during her stay, and they were all the same faces. Even still, Fluffy was her only constant.

These were her days.

Every morning at the exact moment, a breakfast tray was delivered to her. One hour later, servant droids would appear and draw a bath, laying out her clothes for the day and - as Rey learned -  were apparently programmed to not take ‘no’ for an answer. 

“You are  _ the worst _ ,” she said, as the hot water hit her skin. 

“We are delighted that you notice our dedication to our work.”

They didn’t seem to mind her yelling either. 

After that she was left alone. The first day she tore off the clothes and sat on her bed until later meal trays were brought and she fell asleep in a chair.  The second day she went through her meditations and stretches, trying to seek the channel of the Force like her master had instructed. However, seeking the Force while under the influence of a ysalamir was neglected in her training and Rey found herself sparring with an ornate candlestick instead. 

On the third day she tried the door handle - it was a long shot anyways, they wouldn’t be so stupid as to let her walk around the palace unhindered - and found it to be unlocked. Her mouth was dry was she tiptoed into the hall, but no one stood in her way. There was no sign of the Red Guards that escorted her initially, though based on the constant eyes of the camera, Rey figured they were never that far away.

There would be no secrets in this palace. Lies, however, were plentiful.

Now the days to run together, but the marks on the side of her headboard said fourteen days. Two weeks. Two weeks on Coruscant in the hands of the Skywalkers and she was still alone. And engaged to the heir to Vader himself. 

Rey swallowed and pushed the thought out of her mind. She would not dwell on that - her master had taught her better. She would survive and then the Skywalkers would pay. Even if she was their Empress, she would see them bleed.

But the thought of her fiance made her still. Her mind drifted to his fingers touching her skin as he slid the ring on her finger and clasped the ysalamir to her wrist and the strange voice that came to her mind. He had heard it too and the thought of sharing anymore with such a stranger made the thought of stabbing her lightsaber into his throat all the more desirable. 

She looked to her hand and the cold piece wrapped around her middle finger. It was snug and tight and despite her hatred of it’s gifter, when she took it off at night and stared at it between the stars, Rey couldn’t find herself to throw it away. 

Not to mention the Skywalkers would just find a more obtuse piece of jewelry to bind her. 

A clatter sounded from down the hall. Rey stilled. Quickly, she turned down a side path, watching silently, holding her breath, as the stranger passed her and went ahead. The black armor dropped a weight in her stomach. Another deathtrooper. Holding back a growl, she stomped her foot. Peeking around the corner, she breathed easy.

He was gone.  _ Kriff _ . It was always a deathtrooper. Always. Somehow, every day since she first walked out of her rooms, even though she did not run into another soul - no servants, no senators or Moffs, or even Skywalkers themselves - she ran into a deathtrooper.

Probably it was just one deathtrooper.

Probably FN-2187. 

Rey yanked on the chain, pulling Fluffy closer and quickly stopped as she came to another crossing, this one overlooked by a tall etching that reached for Coruscant’s suns. Brow furrowing, Rey stepped closer, daring to reach out to brush the stone. The painting was old, very, very old, though the stone etching beneath it was clear in the shadows. A togrutan female stood with their eyes closed, a lightsaber held aloft. Rey shuddered and looked away. Not every relic was destroyed in Palpatine’s purge.

Transfixed she stood there in the shaft of sunlight until the sound of booted feet pressed her forward once again. Fluffy hissed as it adjusted to the sudden speed.

Rey shushed it. “It’s not like they’ve give me permission to roam about the palace.”

Though it wasn’t like they locked her in her rooms either…

Looking forward Rey nearly skidded to a halt, the ysalamir’s repulsorlift shrieking as it slowed. This hall was a dead end, she had nowhere to go except - 

She turned and looked back over her shoulder as the footsteps grew louder. A single door at the end of the hall was her only way out. Without a second thought she pulled the door shut behind her, taking in deep breaths as her eyes adjusted.

The room was dark. Very dark. 

The wooden floors of the palace gave way to dark polished stone, illuminated by a line of cold white light. Seven figures stood at her coming and Rey couldn’t shut out the sound of her breaths echoing in the chamber. Suddenly FN-2183 or whatever his name was seeming like a better option. 

She fumbled for the handle, only to find the door smooth and without blemish. Gritting her teeth, Rey turned. One figure stood tall above the rest, standing still as the others moved to form a circle. She focused her gaze on him. 

A voice rumbled in the dark, present and ethereal. The accent was strange, the way the words rolled from the tongue, but Rey was captivated all the same. It was only the sight of the lightsabers encroaching that stirred her from his words. His words. She’d recognized the voice of her fiance anywhere.

“I was wondering when you would show up.”

 

* * *

_ Watch her _ . 

That’s what Luke Skywalker said. Granted he said that on Jakku, and they were now on Coruscant with hordes of the Red Guard to contend with her. Yet there was a whisper at the back of his mind that kept him going, that changed the order to  _ Keep Watch _ . 

Finn shrugged. Orders were orders and he had learned enough that if strange voices told you things while you lived in the Imperial palace, you should probably listen to them if you wanted to live. 

Which was how he found himself stalking down the halls in the trail of a girl bound to a ysalamir. She was quiet, but she always traveled the same path every day, without fail. Not that if she decided to do some real exploring would it pose any difficulty. One call up to monitor comms and he would have her location in a minute. It did help that the wing of the palace that opened into her suites were specifically cordoned off for her exploration. Doors were specifically left open and unlocked, while others were wiped from existence behind a hologram. She could walk for miles and never see another soul. 

Or try to kill them. Which was mostly what Finn’s job was, he supposed. But so far no other being was stupid enough to run through the girl’s section of the palace and so he just followed in her footsteps. 

She did like running though. Everytime he drew near, she would dart away and disappear. He didn’t try to look for her - he wasn’t trying to catch her or question her - he was only going to watch. And eventually she would climb out of her hiding space and start walking again. And Finn would find her trail and the cycle would begin anew.

After two weeks it was getting old. 

Setting his jaw he turned down the corner, catching a glimpse of her robes as she turned down another hall. He wasn’t quite sure why he pressed on - he knew what was at the end of that hall - but some sense of curiosity made him want to see if she would do what he feared. She probably would; that girl had absolutely no sense of self-preservation, he was sure of that. 

He rounded the corner as the door slammed shut. Finn stopped at the beginning of the hallway. Even if she stood at the end, there was no way he was going near that door. Nope. Couldn’t make him.

Nope. 

He smiled beneath the helmet and began to breathe easy. Whatever that girl was, she wasn’t his problem anymore. The Knights of Ren would be more than capable of dealing with her. 

He slung the rifle back over his shoulders and turned around and wondered if Poe Dameron knew how to play sabaac. 

* * *

 

 

She was fearless, he would give her that. 

Kylo Ren stood to the side as he watched the Sith Apprentice crouch before the lightsabers. A small voice whispered,  _ fiance _ , but he pushed that far aside. His grandfather might make the rules, and he might be committed to follow them, but he did not have to embrace them. 

And until Vader ordered him directly, there was no harm in seeing the limits of a Sith Apprentice.

He had heard stories. When it was dark at night he could hear his mother’s voice whispering tales of blue lighting called from fingertips, meditation that could change the outcomes of empires: the power to change life itself. 

He strode towards her, taking her wrist in his hand, bearing through that damned ysalamir emptiness and freeing her from her bonds. He felt her twitch as his breath ghosted her skin. 

“Let’s see what the Darkness was made of,” he whispered.

He and the ysalamir pulled away. At first nothing happened. The Sith stood tall, peering over her shoulder as the Knights continued their approach. Kylo crossed his arms and waited. They all did until Hildari Ren stepped forward, lightsaber twisted in a bleeding arch. 

And then the earth tilted.

Hildari’s blade never made contact: in the moment it took for the saber to come down, the Sith had stepped forward, grabbing his wrist and twisting harshly. She sidestepped the falling blade, ripping the hilt from his hand

They were training blades, not set to full power, but Kylo Ren had felt their bites many times: Hildari would be taking the bacta bath tonight. 

She turned on the others, the red blade dancing across the room as she darted between the Knights. She was a maelstrom at night, consuming and pulling all towards her. Darkness came in and out with each breath, pulsing and giving live as dark as blood. Still despite the power, she wasn’t using it as she sent Knight after Knight to the floor. When only one was left,  Kylo Ren narrowed his eyes. He knew it was only a matter of time. His fingers twitched as she knocked Ertalo Ren to the ground. The Force surrounded her, waiting for her to call, but still she waited.

Then her eyes met his for only the third time since she arrived. The hate in her gaze was palpable even from this distance. With a cry, she shifted  and threw out her hands. The ground shook and steel croaked and Kylo Ren was suddenly aware of every loose piece of metal in the room flying towards his face. He closed his eyes and held out a hand, palm wide and fingers splayed. The rolling tide at the far end pushed against him, but he straddled a different monster, a current in the Force that obeyed no laws of reason. He was a master of no side of the Force, but the Force itself bucked and broke to meet his will. 

The chasm between light and dark welled up in response, chaotic and consuming, and with the push of his other hand he knocked her off her feet. Exhaling heavily, the metal collapsed to the ground in a heap. 

He looked up just in time for her to race to his side, a snarl etched onto her pretty face, her hand outstretched. A noose tightened around his neck, twisting and pulling, but Kylo Ren only smiled. Even after all these years, Vader was still rather fond of that one in particular. He didn’t survive as a Skywalker without learning how to escape that grasp. 

Slowing his breaths, he reached out and clenched his hand. A lightsaber flew to his hands, igniting as it passed her legs. The burns were superficial, but it was enough to break her concentration and Kylo pounced. As in the throne room weeks before, she was caught within an invisible net, unable to move or break his hold. Still she struggled and spears of the Force battered against his mind. Holstering the training saber, he growled. 

Slowly he stepped forward and held out a hand, narrowing his eyes as he looked into hers. They were brown, he noted. And they hated him. Her shields were up, strong and tall, but every fortress has a back door, so he skirted and looked and searched in her eyes while she assaulted his mind. 

Then he found it: 

_ Loss.  _

_ Endless waking nights, searching and waiting. Always waiting. On a desert planet, on a lush planet, on a husk of a world - it was always the same. Always waiting.  _

_ Until. _

_ A voice called out  - “Rey!” - from everywhere and nowhere.  _

_ A child’s eyes stared at him through her eyes, quiet, broken - afraid. And then - determination, pain, anger. He could taste her promise as the dark rose between them, he could feel the truth in his bones: she would never be helpless again. _

_ Not to him, not to Luke, not to Vader - not to anyone.  _

_ A flash of red shined from the shadows, crashing down in a crimson arc, aimed at his throat.  _

Gasping he stumbled away. She swayed away as he broke the contact, the invisible chains falling from her arms. They were both breathing heavy; was it possible she trusted her legs as little as he trusted his? His hands shook as he stepped back, eyes wide, never leaving her. She was dangerous, she was uncontrolled, she was… Kylo swallowed. A wellspring of power. Dark and dangerous, rich and full, just begging for him to come and drown. The urge to comply was intoxicating. 

Suddenly aware of the pricks on his mind, he closed off his shields, his face hardening. Though the Knights were incapacitated, they weren’t stupid. Reaching out cautiously, he could feel their anxiousness or was it their ambition? Though they remained silent, their curiosity was palpable, their anger flaring. Before she could protest, Kylo Ren grabbed the Apprentice’s arm, pulling her aside. 

_Rey_... He couldn’t forget that cry. It wasn’t the girl’s voice that was certain. Was that her name?

He strode over to the ysalamir, feeling the protest welling up within her as she realized what he was doing, but Kylo only gripped her arm tighter. He ignored the sick pit in his stomach as it’s bubble encased them, though he was glad to be free of her perception. She only stared at him, eyes smoldering with rage as he clasped the chain to her wrist.

“Not here,” he said quietly. 

“Then let me go,” she said.

“You need to leave.”

“What are you hiding, Skywalker.” Her eyes narrowed. “What happened back there?”

His grip on her wrist tightened. “Be quiet.”

Her only acknowledgement was that her voice lowered. Enough. “It was just like the throne room with the voice- What have you done to me? why aren’t you telling me anything?” 

“There is nothing to be said.”

“Then what did you do to my mind?” she hissed.

He whirled on her, eyes narrowed, his free hand clenched at his side. “Nothing you didn’t do to my own,” he said at last. Her brows furrowed, but her mouth stayed shut. “Like I said, it’s time for you to leave.”

She crossed her arms, the ysalamir shifting on its branch. “Can I come back?”

The slightest curve came across his lips and Kylo Ren wondered what he was doing. He blamed it on that taste of the dark.  “Perhaps.”

He pulled open the door and she walked through without protest. As much protest as she could manage. She didn’t meet his eyes and Kylo guessed that the only reason she behaved was that training saber still rested at his side.  

“Skywalker.”

He looked up suddenly as she stood in the doorway, her foot tapping. He raised an eyebrow and she bit her cheek. 

“What do I call you?” she asked, almost quietly. 

Kylo blinked. What kind of question was that. Why would a Sith Apprentice care about such thhings? She had already vowed to kill him once and she tried to succeed today. Why would she care about his name? More so, why would she ask like a girl asking a boy what was his favorite taun taun. 

_ Well, you are engaged.  _ He closed his eyes.  _ Don’t remind me _ . When he opened them, he once again wondered what he was doing. “Whatever you heard.”

Ignoring the unsatisfied twist of her features, he shut the door and walked back to the sparring room. He threw the training saber into the pile of scrap, pushing the metal against the far walls until the floor was clean. He reached out a hand and his personal lightsaber came with ease: fractured and repaired over countless years, it was fashioned after ancient broadsabers, its red blade venting from the cross guards. It hummed to live in his hands, powerful and unweildly. Kylo almost smiled. His mother did say he like to play with things that tried kill him. 

The Knights dispersed as the sentinel droids rolled onto the floor, though the bellowed  _ Leave! _ in the Force was enough to send most scurrying. They knew what was about to come and as Kylo took in a deep breath, he was completely and utterly alone.

As the droids began to fire in tandem, the Master of the Knights of Ren opened up into the Force, straddling the line it carved between day and night. It stretched and pulled and he found solace in the ache to belong to neither. Kylo buried himself in it, ignoring the empty spot in the Force at the corner of the palace and ignoring the part of his mind that burned after their contact. 

Bolts ricocheted off the walls and Kylo never faltered, not even as his uncle’s voice filled the empty void where the Force split into factions.  _ The Force is not a mirror,  _ Luke had said. _ It does not reflect a perfect image, rather it casts more than what you can see with your eyes. It is a window - a door - opening with the slightest pressure and the right key. Apply the proper amount of leverage, and you will find what you were not intending to seek: the past, the present, even the future. _

He gritted his teeth. He had opened the door - or had she let him in? - and heard the cry, saw the darkness. His own door he had tried to keep locked, but the Force would find a way: if a door was barred: a window could be easily pried open. 

The back of Kylo Ren’s mind burned as he found the open window and slammed it shut. Still he could feel her signature, taste her darkness. She had peered through the window and looked into his mind and saw the memory: The one of a man screaming out his name in the dark. 

_ “Whatever you heard _ ,” he had said.

With a cry, Kylo Ren held out a hand, freezing the bolts in midair as he rent the droids in two.  

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poe's coming back, I promise.
> 
> Enjoy!


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

“And that one’s mine.”

Finn scowled as Poe Dameron leaned over with glee, pulling the credits to his account. The deathtrooper wasn’t _that_ bad at sabacc, but the pilots gathered around the game table almost nightly; it came as easy as breathing, as launching into the stars themselves.

Poe was very good at both and subsequently, he was very good at sabacc.

Finn’s eyebrows furrowed as he stared at his hand, his fingers hovering over the cards.

“Staring at the cards isn’t going to make them change-”

“Shut up.”

Poe leaned back, hands behind his head and a confident grin across this face that Finn tried desperately to ignore. His hand hovered above the board control, until he let them fall heavily as the round ended. 

“Kriffing Corellian hells,” he muttered. Holding his head in his hands, he didn’t even look as Poe sat forward.

“You’re shit at sabacc,” he whispered.

Finn growled as the credits transferred to the pilot’s deck. “Go jump out an airlock.”

Poe’s lips curved into a devilish grin. “You win, I’ll do it with a smile on my face.”

Finn leaned back and looked around. They were the only two left in the relief hall, the only sound coming from the whirring game board. The black leather chairs and dark grey floors almost melted in with the dark duracrete walls. Compared to the stark sterility of a Star Destroyer, the palace was a moody obelisk that changed temperaments as frequently as it’s additions changed architecture. Poe lounged easily in his black flight suit. Finn shuffled in his fatigues, ignoring the pile of black armor discarded by the door.

Determined, he looked up. “One more hand.”

“Ha, and what are the stakes? You’re out of credits,” Poe pointed out.

“You can have my blaster.”

“Already got one, and why would I have need for an assault blaster? That’s not exactly cockpit friendly.” He scratched his chin. “How’s this? You let me take you to that bar in the Underbelly."

“Oh come on-”

“ _And_ I get your speeder.”

Finn gritted his teeth as Poe smiled confidently. He leaned over, ignoring the heat in his cheeks. “It’s a date.”

“Excellent.” Poe rubbed his hands together. “Shall we?”

The table shuffled the deck, dealing them out. Finn glanced up as Poe looked at his cards. He had seen the pilot on and off again in the weeks after the dropped the girl off with Luke Skywalker. At first, they had just ran into each other going to and from the mess halls, or to and from the hangar decks. Once, they waved across the training rooms as one entered and the other left. And then Poe decided to make a little money and invited Finn to the pilots’ relief hall for a game of sabacc.

Three days later, Finn’s credit account was starting to look a bit paltry.

He had to win. His fingers twitched and he looked down at his hand. He really liked that speeder and really hated bars.

“Alright. I really do hate to do this to you but,” Poe lounged in his chair, “Positive twenty-three.”

A bead of sweat formed at his hairline. Finn glanced back down at his cards. “Ha ha, you’re real funny.”

 _Kriff_.

“All you have to do is make a bet. Any bet. I promise it’ll be painless.”

“Airlock.”

“Win and I’ll jump out with a smile.”

His foot began to tap involuntarily, bouncing against his hand. A tug drew his gaze up, not to the pilot’s irritating curve of his lips, but to the holographic hand shimmering opposite his own.

His foot stopped. Finn looked up. “An Idiot’s Array.”

“You’re dumber than you look.”

“Show me the cards, fly boy.”

Poe rolled his eyes. “Fine. Here, see Pure Sabac-” The words fell from his mouth, and his jaw slacked as the perfect grin was replaced with utter disbelief. “How in kriffing hell did you do that?”

Finn smiled. “Do what?”

* * *

Poe Dameron wasn’t really sure what he just witnessed. A deathtrooper - a very intelligent, very kind, but still a deathtrooper - who had only been playing sabacc for three nights, and who was flushed of credits, just won with the damned luckiest hand in the galaxy. The pilot pointed to the three cards laid out: the Idiot, a two of Sabers, and a three of Coins. An Idiot’s Array. His jaw hadn’t rolled up yet. “How did you do that?”

The deathtrooper grinned. “You gave away your hand.”

Poe grit his teeth. “I did not!”

“Did too!”

Poe growled. “Then you cheated.”

The deathtrooper shrugged and glanced away. “Whatever it takes to win.”

He glanced to Finn from the corner of his eye, carefully aware that he neither confirmed, nor denied the accusation. _Whatever it takes to win_ : that should be the motto for sabacc. Poe looked down on his hand in awe. “How did you even see? You never moved. I didn’t even turn my hands!”

Finn narrowed his eyes, biting his lip. The deathtrooper opened his mouth as Poe waited expectantly. One to berate, and two, to add this trick to his arsenal. A couple of the pilots weren’t as honest gamblers.

“You saw the cards, didn’t you?”

Both men nearly jumped - Poe might have shouted - _might_ have - as a young woman peered in from the doorway. He immediately recognized the sharp features of the girl they took from Jakku, the one Skywalker tied to a ysalamir.

Finn slowly turned to face her, dark eyes hard and lips pressed into a line.

“How do you have access for here?” Poe asked sternly. His hand slowly moved to the holster on his hip, his blaster waiting and ready.

“The door was unlocked,” she said. Poe’s hand relaxed. “And you weren’t exactly being quiet. It’ wasn’t hard to find.”

Finn flushed. Poe pretended not to notice. He leaned across the table. He lowered his voice to a whisper and prayed that the ysalamir blocked any kind of Force-enhanced hearing. “I thought you said they were controlling her access to the palace.”

The deathtrooper shrugged. “I don’t know - Last I saw she went in with the Knights and maybe she passed a test?”

“And maybe, I know how to pick a lock,” she whispered with a wink.

Finn and Poe blinked before settling back in their chairs. “Fine,” Poe said tiredly. “Do come in.”

She raised one eyebrow and came further into the room. Aside from the three of them, it was empty, the rest of the sabaac tables and Finn’s pile of armor in the corner. For once, Poe was glad to see his blaster rifle slung next to him the chair. Finn rested it in his lap as the girl pushed over a third chair.

“What? Do you think I’ll kill you, blaster boy?” She raised an eyebrow.

Finn scowled. “I know you will.”

Rey - Poe thought that was her name - looked away in an attempt to be nonchalant. “You’re not the one who has to worry.” She looked at him. “But you saw the cards.”

It wasn’t a question. Poe watched as Finn slowly nodded. “I didn’t _see_ them, exactly, but I just. Knew what was on them.” He looked to Poe. “Does that make sense?”

“Absolutely not.”

“You’re so encouraging, pilot.”

“Lieutenant Poe Dameron.”

“Oh forgive me, _Lieutenant_.” Her hair was out of the buns and it hung around her face haphazardly, in loose waves. Hazel eyes cut right through him. “I want to play.”

“When Mustafar freezes over,” Finn said. Poe remembered why he liked him. “Besides, you don’t have any money.”

“My fiance does.”

Poe desperately ignored the chill that ran down his spine. “I am _not_ taking money from Skywalkers. They can keep it.” He looked at the two across from him and smiled. “We’ll play with secrets.”

 

* * *

If Finn was shit at sabacc, Rey was a dying bantha rolling around in it’s own feces. Finn was actually able to win a few hands with her in the pot. Watching her struggle with the rules and the betting was one of the highlights of Poe’s week and he hoped that the security cams would catch the event for later posterity.

He grinned as she huffed once again in defeat. “Tell me a secret, sweetheart.”

“If you say that one more time -”

"What? You’ll electrocute me?”

She leaned forward. “I’ll punch your pretty teeth out.”

“Look, Finn, she noticed.”

Seething, she sat back and crossed her arms. The ysalamir purred. “Ok, how about… I’ve never been to Tatooine.”

“You used that one last round. And that’s not much of a secret, nobody goes to that sunspot.”

Finn glared at her. “And I told you all that I passed out in my first battle.”

Poe looked to Finn. “You really should have kept that one to yourself.”

“Oh yeah? Mister I-Was-Too-Scared-To-Land-My-First-Flight. What kind of secret is that? You’re a pilot-”

“I’ve never seen it rain,” Rey said suddenly, quietly.

He and Finn looked up suddenly. “Oh.” How many desolate worlds had she traveled to, to never have seen any rain? Felucia was overflowing with humidity and precipitation, Naboo airy and lush as Alderaan once was. Then there was Kamino and Dagobah, so full of wet and rain, that was all there was to the planet. So many worlds, filled with water, and somehow she was kept from all of them.

“Were you on Jakku long?” Finn asked gently.

Rey smiled bitterly. “One question per losing hand, that’s the bet right?”

“Do you want to play again?” Poe said. Torrential rain from many years across many planets filled his ears. Even the acid laden rain of Coruscant would smack against the panes of the palace, lulling its occupants to sleep. Poe looked to the chrono: it hadn’t rained since she arrived.

Briskly she stood, the ysalamir grunting as it jostled in its field. “No,” she said and hurried to the door.

Finn stood after her. “You know where to find us if you want to play again.”

A single eyebrow raised before Rey nodded and left the room. Aside from the chair she moved, it was as if she had never been there. She left hardly a trace.

Finn walked over to Poe. He looked down and frowned. “You owe me a lot of money.”

Poe smiled. “You sure you don’t want to go to that bar? Call it even?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Sabacc](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Sabacc/Legends) \- here are the rules and information I used. Sorry if any of you actually know how to play it and i butchered it lol
> 
> Also, sorry about the hiatus. I'm still updating this fic, it just might not be as frequent.


	5. Author Note

I'm so sorry it has been so long since I have updated this fic. Life got crazy a couple of months ago and I lost the momentum and drive to work on this. 

 

That being said, I have plans to come back to it, but it might be some time before I'm ready to update it on a regular basis. But this fic isn't dead, it's just on long term hiatus. 

 

Thank you for all your support, and I look forward to coming back to this world soon! (hopefully before the holidays are over)

 

V <33


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